


The New Partner

by ThexInvisiblexGirl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 04:59:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14036688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThexInvisiblexGirl/pseuds/ThexInvisiblexGirl
Summary: It's late February 1992 and Mulder gets a new partner. Takes place before the Pilot.





	1. Part I – Mulder

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on fanfiction.net a few years ago, but I thought I'd post it here as well. Happy reading! Comments are most welcome!

When Skinner showed up on his doorway, he knew for sure – this was definitely not his day.

It's not as if he didn't have signs. They were there all morning, taunting him. He woke up fifteen minutes after the alarm and jammed his toe into the coffee table. He picked up the wrong cup at the café, and as if that in itself wasn't irritating enough, spilled its entire content all over his recently dry-cleaned jacket. It still smelled of soy milk, which made his office reek, as well. The only skylight in the tiny space was stuck so he couldn't even get some fresh air in. His printer stopped working with no apparent reason, and a tower of files all but collapsed on his head when he bent underneath his desk to pick up a stray pencil. Even as the small incidents accumulated and worsened, he dismissed them. Just one of those days, he figured; no point in making a big deal out of it.

Little did he know that his day was about to get so much worse.

He was still catching his breath underneath his desk when he heard approaching footsteps. He thought nothing of it; people passed by his office at all odd hours, mostly on their way to use the spare photocopier three doors down. It was a well-kept secret among veteran agents passed on only to a chosen few. The photocopiers upstairs were getting too busy around midday. Those venturing downstairs often lingered by his office door, where his nameplate served a silent memento to the fallen golden boy of the FBI, but moved on as swiftly as they arrived. No one wanted to risk being tainted by his deteriorating reputation.

And so when someone cleared his throat on the threshold and he realized there was another person in the office with him, he was so shocked he bumped his head against the frame of the desk.

"Ouch! Son of a – "

"Agent Mulder?"

At the sound of the familiar voice he started, then crawled out as neatly he possibly could without looking like more of an idiot. He blinked twice, but his eyes were not deceiving him. It really was Assistant Director Skinner standing there, holding a thin folder against his chest.

"Sir. What a surprise," he said, straightening his tie. Although his dress shirt was thankfully not stained with coffee, it was now hopelessly wrinkled and covered with dust bunnies. One glance at his superior and it was clear he wasn't the only one noticing it.

"Are you alright, Agent?" asked Skinner, eyeing him with concern. Then his gaze shifted to the desk. "What were you doing down there?"

"I was just…" His voice trailed. Nothing he said would make him look better at this point. "Never mind, Sir. What I can do for you?"

"I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"How am I doing, Sir?" he echoed slowly, all the while furiously attempting to figure out how he had messed up this time. He didn't remember pissing off any of the executives recently. Not more than usual that is. Why would Skinner be down there in the midst of what was surely a busy day, especially looking for him? It didn't look good. It looked rather suspicious, actually. "Is there something wrong?"

"Why would you say that, Mulder?" asked Skinner, certain wariness sneaking into his voice.

"Surely you could ask your secretary to get me if you needed to see me, Sir. And yet here you are, in person. And it can't be just out of concern for my well-being. I'm not that important to the bureau."

Skinner chuckled darkly. He pretended to see faint blush rise in the bald man's face. Clearly, he was busted. He should have known not to use false pretenses, not with him. He was a brilliant profiler, after all. Or so he was told.

"I need to talk to you," Skinner said finally, stating the obvious.

Well, he was already doomed. He beckoned the older man to come inside. "Have a seat."

Skinner hesitated, but only for a moment. He made his way through a jumble of books and case files and took a seat across from him. He fiddled with his folder, placing it neatly across his lap, as if wanting to keep his hands busy. He still hadn't spoken.

"I'm all ears, Sir," he reminded him, allowing a small, cautious grin curl on his lips. The older man cleared his throat, still looking hesitant.

"First of all I'll have you know that this was not my idea – "

"Come on, Sir, now you're starting to scare me." He wasn't even joking. He was genuinely anxious with every second Skinner was stalling. "What is it?"

"The higher ups feel you've been down here on your own for too long."

"It isn't my fault no one has the stomach to stay long enough for the ride." Honestly, working on the X Files alongside him was like being a governess for the Von Trapp children. No one had lasted very long; he had supposedly scared everyone away. He knew he was not an easy person to tolerate, let alone work with. Every time his superiors had attempted to pair him up with a new partner –

Then it suddenly dawned on him, and he felt the blood drain from his face. He knew exactly why Skinner was there and where the conversation was going. "No," he hissed, his eyes narrowing at his boss despite himself.

"You're getting a new partner," said Skinner, although at this point there was no big surprise there; he had already figured it out. His tone was resolute, but he seemed cautious. Clearly, he was bracing himself for resentment he knew would be coming.

Well, he wasn't going to let the older man down. "Why?"

"You know why, Agent Mulder. It is against FBI regulations for you to be – "

"I don't need a new partner. I manage quite well on my own here."

"Look, this is not negotiable," Skinner cut him off decisively. "Contrary to what you may believe, rules are meant to be followed, not broken. And you need someone to watch your back."

"You mean the fellows upstairs actually care for my well-being? I'm flattered, Sir. I'm practically blushing."

"Cut the crap, Mulder. The decision is final. There's nothing you can do to change it."

Then he got it. Of course. It made perfect sense that Skinner himself would be down there laying the news on him rather than some lesser figure. Skinner had always had a soft spot towards him despite his erratic behavior and general dislike of his superiors. The Assistant Director had always treated him with more patience and respect than the rest of them, almost as though he'd liked him. He imagined it wasn't far-fetched; he just wasn't used to displays of positive emotion from his peers, not since he was deemed the black sheep of the bureau. At the moment, though, in light of this current news, he couldn't help feeling betrayed. He didn't need a new partner, someone who would breathe down his back and slow him down. Not when he was finally getting somewhere on the X Files.

"When?" he all but growled. If Skinner was intimidated, he didn't show it.

"Next Friday."

Rare were the times when he was left speechless. This was definitely one of those times. He had so many things he wanted to say, but he simply couldn't string the words together. And there was no point saying anything, really; Skinner made it very clear that the decision was final. In exactly a week's time, he would have a new partner. Nothing he was going to say would change this grim fact, or the deadline.

Another moment passed. Skinner deliberated, but then reached for the folder in his lap. "Here's her file, in case you're remotely interested."

"Her file?" he asked, his voice a cross between disgust and incredulity. Skinner glared at him and handed him the folder with no further comment, not even a nod. He took it, sulking. "Great. Awesome. Thanks so much," he said, each word dripping with sarcasm. If earlier he'd still managed to contain himself somewhat, now he simply couldn't help it. He could already picture this woman, all breasts and curves and long hair; a femme fatal sent by the higher ups to seduce him, and then bring him down. Just when the wound Diana had left behind was beginning to heal.

Skinner sighed with what sounded distinctly like exasperation, and then got up and approached the door. In the last moment he changed his mind and turned back to face him. "You know, Mulder, you of all people should know to keep an open mind about this. Who knows, you might be pleasantly surprised."

"Somehow I highly doubt that, Sir," he muttered. He was tempted to create a formation of paper planes from each and every one of the pages that compiled that damn folder. Somehow he didn't think Skinner would appreciate such an initiative.

"Just try to be nice, will you?"

"I'll be on my very best behavior, Sir," he said, all but batting his eyelashes innocently.

He could tell Skinner wasn't buying his act, but the Assistant Director merely shrugged. "Back to work, Agent."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

As soon as he heard Skinner's footsteps receding down the hall, he glared at the folder before tossing it across his desk.

xxx

Of course, he could only let it go for so long. All through the day, he felt the taunting presence of the folder, wordlessly daring him to open it. It was late in the afternoon when he finally gave in. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed it and brought it closer. He opened it reluctantly, yet forcibly enough that a photo came loose of its paper clip and dropped on his desk. It was a black and white portrait, as per FBI requirements.

She looked too young and too green to be either a spy or a temptress, but he knew he shouldn't let looks deceive him. Phoebe Green was also young and beautiful when they first met, and everyone knew how well that story turned out. He observed the stranger's bright eyes and straight hair as closely as he would a criminal. She looked nothing like the dark image he'd had in mind for the last few hours. She had pleasant features, actually. It was certainly different than the more striking, intimidating sort, like Diana Fowley; a softer type of beauty. He turned his attention back to her personal file, hoping to learn some more.

Dana Katherine Scully, twenty eight years old, joined the bureau merely two years prior. She was a scientist, a friggin' medical doctor, no less, with background in forensic medicine. Apparently she was recruited out of medical school and was currently teaching at the Academy in Quantico. What on earth were the executives thinking she would do with him? Did they count on her to use her medical background to declare him unfit, and thus get rid of him for good?

Since she was relatively new to the FBI, her file didn't reveal much else, but he was burning with curiosity now despite himself. Her photo remained on his desk and her eyes were leering at him, almost challenging him to try and send her away. She seemed so faultless, and that only increased his resentment. He needed to know more. There had to be something devious about her. What skeletons was this woman hiding for their superiors to crown her Mrs. Spooky?

There was only one way to find out.

xxx

"Nothing else, Frohike? Are you guys certain?"

"You sound disappointed, Mulder," said Frohike.

"And just a little more paranoid than usual." Langly, on the extension. "What else were you hoping for us to find?"

"I'm… not sure." He was disappointed, which was somewhat irrational. He glanced at her photo. She looked too goody-two-shoes for anything dirty or mysterious he'd had in mind. He would have been surprised if the Gunmen had unearthed something about her.

"Dana Katherine Scully, born 1964, daughter of William, a retired Navy Captain, and Margaret, former kindergarten teacher. The third of four siblings. Graduated from the University of Maryland in 1986 with a senior thesis in physics." Frohike let out a long whistle. "A medical doctor. A smart girl you've got there, Mulder. You never told us you were back on the dating pool."

"What?" he asked irritably. Even two days later, the imminent arrival of his new partner – now less than a week away – was a nuisance to him, not to mention the complete lack of information that might mark her as the enemy. He was beginning to exhaust his resources and it was pissing him off. He was not in the mood for hints and games.

"Papa Smurf means to say it's a good thing you're finally over Diana, but it's probably not advisable as first impression, having us run background checks on your potential dates."

"It's not a – It's nothing like that." There was expectant silence on the other end. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "She's to be my new partner, as of Friday."

That made them both burst in laughter. Having expected it, it was somewhat less hurtful. "Leaving behind a promising career in medicine so she could chase little green men with you? She must have seriously pissed off one of the slave drivers," roared Frohike.

"I tried to get myself out of it, believe me. I don't need anyone breathing down my back, trying to keep up. Especially not someone as inexperienced in field work as this girl seems to be. Besides, I'm pretty sure there's more to it than the good intentions of my superiors."

"Can you be more paranoid, man?" chuckled Langly. "Not everyone in this planet – or elsewhere, for that matter – is out to get you."

"It just feels a bit suspect, is all."

"What do you base that on?"

"It's just a hunch, okay?"

"Well, there's nothing on her that would suggest it, Mulder. Maybe you're wrong."

"In all the years you've known me, Langly, how many times have I been wrong?"

"Don't answer that, hippie. Seriously, though, Mulder. I don't know what to tell you. She's clean as a whistle. Oh, but hey, since you're not interested, care to put in a good word on my behalf?"

"She's half your age, you perv!" Langly roared with laughter.

Their ongoing bickering became background noise. He stared at his I Want to Believe poster in momentary defeat. Then something occurred to him, and he straightened up in his chair, new determination coursing through him. "You guys said that she graduated from the University of Maryland?"

xxx

He spent the next night reading her senior thesis, which he had retrieved earlier that day from the University of Maryland. Einstein's Twin Paradox, a New Interpretation. Well, she was fierce, he was willing to give her that, and ballsy. Her writing style was sharp and cohesive and not entirely typical for a student so young. Hell, he didn't remember his own college papers to be as strongly argued, and he aced every single one of his classes in Oxford. It told him that whoever Dana Scully was and whatever was her agenda, she was serious and hard-working. If her writing style was any indication of her character, he was in deep trouble.

He looked at her photo again, well aware of the fact he was obsessing and yet unable to help himself. He tried to look into her, to put together the few pieces available to him, but to no avail. He tossed both photo and paper onto his coffee table in frustration and stretched across his sofa, sighing. This was exactly what they had wanted him to do. They wanted to toy with him even before they sent their minion to infiltrate into his office, to write her notes and field reports and tell them exactly what they want to hear. Well, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He wouldn't make it easy on her. If she was going to bring him down, she was more than welcome to attempt it, but he wasn't going to go without a fight.

xxx

When he arrived at work on Thursday, he found a memo from Skinner, reminding him of Agent Scully's arrival, sometime around noon the next day. He crumbled the note into a little ball and tossed it into the wastebasket along with a hiss of nasty curses. He didn't actually believe he'd be able to get away with it, of course. He just wished he'd had more time to prepare. Luckily he had come up with new evidence on the case he was working on, and it served as good enough distraction. But then he realized he would have to fill her in about it the next day, and his concentration was all gone. As he was gathering up some slides for a presentation, he couldn't help but snigger. Hopefully the bizarre nature of this case – the unexplained deaths of a bunch of high school graduates in Bellefleur, Oregon – would freak her out enough to keep her out of his way.

He glanced at his watch, then at his schedule. At a very early stage in his career he had learned that legwork was the only way to acquire information. The case of his new partner was no exception to this principle. While sure of the Gunmen and their findings (or its lack thereof), his time was running out. He was still desperate for information, any sort of information, before the next day. He had no meetings due, no interviews. His trip to Oregon was organized, including the second plane ticket and inn reservation which he had reluctantly booked earlier. He gathered his things and grabbed his coat, making sure everything was in order before he locked up. Then, knowing full well he probably shouldn't do this, he headed to Quantico.

The recklessness of his actions was beginning to fully dawn on him as he pulled into the main parking lot and made his way to the Administration building. The only thing he knew for certain was that Agent Scully was currently teaching at the Academy. He knew neither her class schedule nor if he would be able to get in. He didn't even consider what he'd do if he wouldn't be able to – stalk the hallways, try to break into her office? He'd just have to play it by ear, he figured. The majority of his work on the X Files consisted on trusting his instincts, anyway.

The secretary on duty was a pretty young thing, all pink lips and honey colored curls. He was ashamed to be reduced to such cheap ploys, but honestly, one smoldering look was all it took. She informed him that Dr. Scully's class had started not half an hour before, in room 208, a pathology lab on the second floor of the Learning Center. Well, that wasn't good news. If her class took place in a lab rather than a large lecture hall, it meant he wouldn't be able to sneak in after all. He wished the secretary a good day and fled the office before she could slip him a note with her number. He headed out in the direction of the Learning Center, in search of the lab in question.

It had been too long since he had been at the Academy. The hallways were pretty much deserted now, in the limbo between lunch break and the afternoon classes. The few cadets who did pass by eyed him strangely, and he couldn't help but being suspicious about their inconspicuous stares. Did they know him, heard of him? He was well aware of his reputation, of the fact he had become a cautionary tale of sorts in these hallways. Did they all believe the stories? Would she, too?

The smell of formaldehyde and various other chemicals assaulted his nostrils as soon as he reached the second floor, so he knew he was in the right place. He'd never been to that floor, which consisted of small labs and classrooms. He was relieved to discover that most of the walls were out of glass, which would serve his purposes well. This way he should still be able to observe her uninterrupted. If only he'd be able to find the right room. The smell was overwhelming and somewhat distracting; suddenly he was glad he hadn't had a big lunch. Was this what it would be like, working alongside her? Would this same odor constantly hover around his cramped office? There was no way in hell he would be able to handle that.

Most of the labs seemed empty as he was rushing down the hallway, but there was an echo of a voice coming from further down the hall. He figured it was her voice. He glanced at his watch as he rounded another corner, finally approaching 208. It didn't matter that her class had already started some time ago. He only wanted a glimpse. Whatever happened the next day, at least he wouldn't be caught unawares. He chuckled. He still couldn't believe they would stoop so low to assign a woman as his partner. Was he really so gullible in their eyes? Did they honestly believe she could sweep him off his feet and make him stray from a path he had set for himself so many years ago?

There were about ten cadets in the small room, crowded around a medical table containing what seemed distinctly like a human body. Like his day could get any worse. It's not as if he'd never seen a dead body before, but it was always in one crime scene or other. Something about the more clinical environment felt different, grislier somehow. He forced his gaze away from the horizontal shape – thankfully blurry due to the glass and the distance – and turned to search for the person he had come there to see. As soon as his eyes finally set upon her, his queasiness turned into something closer to a snort, because the woman at the center of all those students' attention was quite possibly the least intimidating person ever made it into the FBI Academy.

Wearing scrubs, a hair cover and protective glasses, Dana Scully looked nothing like the photo attached to her personal file. In fact, he was able to identify her thanks to two distinctive reasons: she was the only one wearing a lab coat, and the only one speaking. If he had come here for answers, the mere sight of her only provided him with further questions. It was hilarious how incredibly tiny she was. Most of her students towered over her. Hell, he would tower over her; she couldn't be much higher than his elbow. How could anyone think this woman would be his downfall? Based on her height alone, how did she even make it through the physical exams, a fifteen-week training? That is, unless he had misinterpreted things altogether and she was sleeping her way to the top. This would not be something he'd associate with a scientist of her stature, but it was not unheard of. It would sure explain a whole lot, including how she was expected to sabotage his career.

Her voice carried with clarity that surprised him. Like her writing style (which he had memorized by now) there was sharpness to it, and unmistaken intelligence. He could easily make out every single word while standing outside even though he was pretty sure the glass was soundproof. She was speaking in a steady pace, as if she didn't care if her students would keep up, but at the same time knowing that they would, and they did. His most recent theory didn't seem so valid anymore. Perhaps he was too quick to dismiss her. This was no act; she knew what she was talking about. She was there in her own right. She certainly had more power than he had given her credit for; they all seemed engrossed.

He watched her as she approached the dead body and began to dissect it. He noted the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her hand never faltered, never trembled. He fought wave after wave of nausea when all the while she remained as cool as a cucumber, calmly slicing and dicing. Even one or two of the students winced and moved slightly back. She barely acknowledged them, just kept on speaking and demonstrating. For a moment, all thoughts of seduction and conspiracy left his head. He was as transfixed as her students by what was happening in front of him. This miniature of a woman was in complete control, clearly in her element, and he found it fascinating, despite himself.

He didn't know how long he had been standing there staring, but the sudden ruckus from inside shook him out of his reverie. He looked up just in time to see the cadets begin to disperse. He acted fast and changed his position just as the door opened, and two of them slipped outside.

"The quiz next week will cover everything we've done these past three weeks," she called after them. Her voice was even clearer now, further alerting him. "Dr. Larken will be taking over next week and he won't review what we've already covered, so keep that in mind."

"Going somewhere, Dr. Scully?" asked one of the students, a handsome one. Looked kind of arrogant, too. He watched her closely, waiting to see if she would return his flirtatious smile, but her face remained impassive as she replied.

"Fortunately for you, Meyers, I've been reassigned. This is my last day. Dr. Larken will teach this course until the end of your training. Don't let this mid-course swap deceive you, though, because he will not go easy on you. So I wouldn't try and mess with him; not if you care to have a future here."

More of them left, some wishing her luck on her new assignment, others asking where she was headed next, and yet none had noticed him. They were moving further down the hall in the opposite direction to his, now discussing their reading for next time, the upcoming quiz and their plans for the rest of the afternoon. She was taking her time hanging her lab coat on a hook by the door, getting out of the scrubs and tossing them in the bin. Underneath them, she was wearing a grey pantsuit that didn't flatter her in the slightest. Gone was the tough doctor; she looked more like someone's unattractive aunt. An English teacher or a librarian, perhaps; certainly not someone who was meant to chase bad guys, or little green men for that matter.

She pulled off the hair cover, then finger-combed her hair to give it some volume. It seemed useless; it fell against her shoulders, straight and shapeless. And there lay another revelation, something her photo did not reveal. She was a redhead. He hadn't expected that. She leaned against the supply closet and rubbed her temples for a moment, letting her eyes close. Her skin looked pale, but he couldn't decide if it was the affect of the lighting in the room, or her actual complexion. Either way, she looked drained.

Watching her resting there, he was suddenly reminded of one of Samantha's dolls. It, too, had red hair, but hers was arranged in perfect ringlets, which he had once cut claiming the doll was infested with lice. He was grounded for two weeks, and Samantha refused to speak to him for longer than that. He sniggered inwardly, and then sighed. It was so easy, so comforting, to associate Dana Scully with this childhood memory. Maybe what he had observed a short time ago was not real, after all. Maybe this was her true self he was witnessing, this vulnerable, exhausted young woman. And if that were the case, how much harm could she inflict?

There was a phone on the wall next to her, and she reached out to the receiver and dialed a number. She stifled a yawn as she waited. "Maintenance? This is Dr. Scully in room 208. I'm done here, yes. Alright. Thanks."

She gathered her things, turned off the lights and exited the small room, leaving the dead body behind. The heels of her sensible shoes echoed down the hall until she too disappeared from his sight.

Well, he couldn't say he felt calmer about officially meeting her the following day, but now he was carefully optimistic. This last image of her, a worn out, fragile young woman, gave him hope. Surely her change of circumstances would leave her shaken, out of her comfort zone, especially upon meeting the infamous Spooky Mulder. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing here, in this lab, in her world. But once she stepped out of it, who knew? Maybe it was too soon to lament his time on the X Files.

Yeah, he assured himself as he chose the opposite direction, and started towards the elevators. There was nothing to worry about. She wouldn't last a day in his office.


	2. Part II – Scully

She walked swiftly down the busy sidewalk, wishing to put as much distance as possible between herself and the Hoover building. Only when it was no longer visible she flopped herself on the first vacant bench she'd spotted, ran her fingers through her perfectly straightened hair and released a shaky breath she was still holding. She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. Her interview with her superiors was undoubtedly unnerving. Signing endless paperwork and being issued with her own weapon was overwhelming and took longer than she'd ever imagined. Nonetheless, the highlight of the day – for better or for worse – and the thing she most needed a moment to regroup from, was meeting her new partner.

She had been pondering over her summons to the headquarters for a little over a week. She had no clue what the executives might want with her, why she had been plucked so suddenly out of Quantico, and mid-course, of all things. One didn't need to be a veteran to know that in an institution so well-managed, this was really unheard of. Needles to say, the odd circumstances just piqued her curiosity further. She knew she was to be reassigned, but never in her wildest dreams had she considered a reassignment such as the one offered – no, not offered, exactly – thrown at her.

She looked down Pennsylvania Avenue, where the Capitol building was visible just so. Her face slackened into a sort of a smile. It could have been worse, she reassured herself. She could have ended up in some godforsaken field office in the middle of nowhere, never to be heard of again. Instead she was to transfer here, the beating heart of everything, only a twenty minute drive from her apartment. As much as she enjoyed teaching at the Academy, the daily drive to and from Quantico was beginning to take its toll. Working downtown would certainly be an improvement of her circumstances in that respect.

In any other respect, though, she wasn't quite sure yet. Being partnered with Fox Mulder had completely thrown her off guard in an already intimidating situation, and she was still wondering what that had been all about. They could pair him with any other agent, more experienced than her, and yet they picked her – handpicked, really. There were no other candidates outside Section Chief Blevins' office, no other options; just her. That only baffled her further. Did they think so little of her, up there at the higher ranks? Had she not distinguished herself enough during her two years with the bureau? Had she done something to displease someone unbeknownst to her and this was her punishment? Had she so little to show for that they had already decided to bury her in that basement, so early on in her career?

If she was completely honest with herself, it was obvious that her lack of experience was exactly why she had been chosen. She figured they had assumed it would be easier for her to infiltrate into Agent Mulder's office rather than for some savvier agent who might expose them too easily. They had probably expected her to undertake her new task, no questions asked. Hell, they probably hadn't expected her to reveal the true nature of their scheme right off the bat. Well, not only she had, but Agent Mulder had also guessed her intentions as soon as she walked through the door, perhaps even before.

Her reaction was mild, really. She was way too green to make an outrageous scene, too scared for her own ass to reply as she should have. What she really should have done was tell them to stick it, that she was a respected MD, beyond childish nonsense such as spying on her peers and putting an end to their life's work. She should have told them that they got the wrong person, that what they had asked her to do was just not in her nature. But then again, so was refusing an assignment appointed to her by her superiors. Nonetheless, was the alternative any better? Undertaking a task that stood against every principle she had been raised upon, not being able to take pride in it because of its sinister nature? How could she tell her parents about it when she was so ashamed of its implications on her own character?

As for the task itself, she figured it wouldn't be difficult to question the validity of Agent Mulder's work. Already his ideas were so completely out there, and she only spent about thirty minutes in his company. Regardless of her apprehension and almost despite herself, she was curious to see where their investigation in Oregon would lead them. Whatever doubts she might be having, whatever her new assignment might say about her moral standards, at least she could count on it to be anything but dreary and routine.

xxx

She arrived home a bit before four, which was a blessed change. While teaching in Quantico she usually left in darkness and by the time she returned, similar darkness had wrapped over everything. For the passed few months she'd only seen daylight through windows: hallways, her tiny office, the Learning Center cafeteria. It was strange to get out of her car when there was still light out; wrong almost, like ditching class. There was a message from her mother waiting on her machine. She listened to it while finding her secret stash of chocolate bars, and ripped the wrapper off one. A day like the one she'd just had definitely called for one.

Hi, Dana, it's mom. I just wanted to know how your interview went. Melissa just called to say she'll come over after her shift at the library. Ahab is cooking steaks, we'll love for you to join us. Call me, honey.

She deliberated before deleting her mother's message. She planned on having a quiet evening in, going over the details of the investigation. She planned on arriving well-prepared the next morning, determined to make a good impression. Plus, it was bound to be a tiring day, flying to Oregon and then driving to who knew where. Nonetheless, the thought of spending some time with her family was alluring. She hadn't seen Melissa in a while, and her dad was cooking his specialty steaks with herb butter, which she could never refuse (even though that as a doctor, she should really know better). Besides, she could use some friendly faces, someone to remind her how special she was and assure her that surely the FBI believed in her enough to entrust such a task in her capable hands.

She changed into jeans and her college sweatshirt and stuffed her feet into her old sneakers with a sigh of relief. Two years with the bureau and wearing heels to work was still a thing to get used to. She hadn't even owned a pair before she was recruited. Just as she meant to pull her hair into a ponytail, the phone rang. Thinking it would be her mother again, maybe even Missy, she took another bite of her chocolate bar and picked up, still chewing.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Scully, it's me."

The voice, lighthearted and bubbly, was pleasant and yet unfamiliar. Who would refer to her by her last name, yet would do so as if they'd known each other for ages? "Uhh... I'm sorry, who is this?" she asked, somewhat embarrassed that she didn't share the sentiment.

The man on the other end chuckled, unoffended. "Already forgotten your new partner? Should I take offense?"

She just about choked on her chocolate. "Agent Mulder?"

"Just Mulder is fine, partner, everyone else calls me that. Well, among other things, that is."

But she was barely aware of his light attempt to make fun at his reputation. "How did you get my number?"

"I don't know if I've properly introduced myself earlier, I'm a special agent with the FBI."

For a moment, his cheerfully sarcastic reply stunned her into silence. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond. She'd never met anyone like this man, who seemed to not give a damn about... well, about anything, apparently. Everyone else she had encountered so far in her relatively brief stint at the bureau was so bland and by-the-book in comparison. He sounded as though he was having the time of his life. Just like he did in his office earlier.

"I'm sorry to call you at home," he continued without answering her question (not that she really expected him to). "I just wanted to clear out a few details about tomorrow."

"Clear out?" she echoed, still perplexed.

"Our flight to Oregon. Do you want to meet at the airport? Because I was thinking I could pick you up. Makes more sense to leave behind one car at the airport. Or we can share a cab."

"I assume you also know my address?" she asked sardonically.

"Why don't you be ready by seven and find out?"

He hung up before she could come up with a witty backfire. Damn him.

xxx

She decided to walk to her parents'. It wasn't a short walk, about an hour or so in a normal pace, but she could use the time to wind down. The air was crisp now that the sun had set, but she didn't mind it. She was a winter girl through and through, and the chill had never bothered her much. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and tried to mentally list all the things she would need for tomorrow. While used to living out of a suitcase, given her father's job, this was her first field assignment, and she was feeling a little out of her element. There was also her pressing need to be on top of things when it came to her new partner. He seemed ready for battle that morning, armed with her résumé and senior thesis, with his slides and presentation which obviously meant to send her away screaming. She wasn't sure if it was her greenness or expertise that irked him (most likely both), but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of mocking her just because he thought he knew better. She was tougher than she looked; she wasn't going to go without a fight.

Streetlights lit up by the time she arrived at her parents' front lawn. It was perfectly manicured as ever. Her mother's flower beds – her pride and joy after her four children – looked as flawless as ever. She mentally reminded herself to compliment her. She felt her lips curl in a smile as she knocked on the door. After a long day of uncertainty, she was finally beginning to feel more grounded, and somewhat more confident. Her family always had that affect on her, whether they knew it or not. So long as she was here, it was easier to believe everything would be well.

Melissa all but tore the front door open. Her eyes glimmered as if she guessed it would be her standing there. "Dana! You made it!"

"Mom had me at 'Ahab is cooking steaks'," she said, rolling her eyes as her older sister unceremoniously pulled her inside, calling out for their mother and babbling something about missing her birthday a couple of weeks back.

Standing at the foyer, she took in the familiar surroundings. She had only been there the previous weekend, and yet whenever she visited her parents', she was in awe of the home they had made themselves there, halfway between Melissa's place and hers. Their house was warm and lived in. This was just the place she had envisioned for her own family, whenever she was to have one; knickknacks collected throughout years of travelling, walls adorned with dozens of family photos in mismatching frames, and books, endless books. She breathed in the impossible blend of cleanliness and food preparation that seemed to exist in perfect harmony nowhere else but there.

Soon her mother stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel before wrapping her in a clumsy hug. Of all her siblings, she was the only one not towering over the older woman. It was somewhat of a joke among the Scully clan. "Dana! It's so nice you could join us."

"Hi, Mom," she laughed softly. It felt like a party. It always had when Ahab was cooking. "I can't stay long; I've got an early flight to catch."

"Oooh, sounds important."

"Right, your new assignment," gasped Melissa and grabbed her hand. "How did it go?"

"It was... interesting." That was one way to put it.

"I'll go help your dad so we can hear all about it over dinner; excuse me, girls."

"Well? Tell me everything," ordered Melissa once their mother disappeared back in the kitchen. She followed her sister into the living room as they each curled on the worn out sofa in their regular spots. "Have you been promoted?"

She sniggered. "I'd hardly call it a promotion. I've been transferred downtown, but the division I'm now assigned to is not… that highly regarded." Nor was the role she was required to undertake in it, for that matter.

"But it's downtown, isn't it? Shorter commute!" She couldn't help but smile. It had always been glass half full with Melissa. "What do you mean by not highly regarded? They didn't stick you in the archives or anything as grim as that, did they?"

"Uhh, no. The focus of my new division is, umm, the unexplained."

"The unexplained?" echoed Melissa, but the glint in her eyes indicated that she understood perfectly, and waited for the punch line.

"Unexplained phenomenon, the paranormal, flying saucers. There, I said it," she mock groaned, ducking against Melissa's throaty chortle. She was glad her sister found her misery so damn amusing. At least it meant she was off the hook explaining what she was expected to do there. For the time being, she preferred to keep the dubious nature of her task to herself.

"My sister the scientist…" Melissa's voice trailed with a fresh roar of laughter. There were tears visible in the corners of her eyes. "This is perfect. A medical doctor chasing UFOs? This is better than promotion, Dana." She rolled her eyes. Sometimes it was easy to forget which one of them was the older sister. "You can't tell Dad that, you'll give him a heart attack," she stage whispered.

Aliens or spying on a colleague? She honestly couldn't decide which would be lesser regarded in her father's eyes. "That's okay, I wasn't going to."

"Aww, I'm just messing with you, Dana, you'll do great. This is just what you need to come out of your shell."

"Chasing monsters in the dark is about the last thing I need, Missy."

"You said you wanted to distinguish yourself, didn't you? Sounds like a golden opportunity to me." She sighed in exasperation. Melissa could find advantages in just about anything. Maybe she should tell her the truth, just to see what she would make of it. "So, have you got a new partner?"

After an hour of telling herself she was silly to doubt herself (although she was now filled with qualms all over again), that was the only part she was still not entirely sure about. And to be honest, now that it had time to sink in somewhat, despite her assertion in her abilities, it kind of annoyed her that of all the things she could be offered, she got stuck with the unattractive job of babysitting the bad boy of the bureau. "I do, but I'm not entirely sure what to make of him yet."

"I knew it would be a guy," Melissa let out a sound that could only be described as a squeal. "What is he like?"

"He's known as Spooky Mulder at the Academy, so I'll let you figure it out," she replied, suddenly welling in self pity. This was not what she had in mind as a first field assignment. She wanted to make a contribution at the FBI, not to be a medical doctor chasing UFOs, as her sister had so eloquently put it, alongside some paranoid lunatic with a passion to the paranormal.

"The more important thing is what you have figured out," her sister pressed her. She had that look.

"Missy..." She could never properly glare at her sister, but she gave it her best shot. She wasn't in the mood for ghosts from the past, let alone one of Melissa's anti-Daniel Waterston lectures. Definitely not with their parents so close by.

"He can't be as bad as people make him up to be, that's all I'm saying."

"No, I don't think he is," she found herself admitting, her voice softening despite herself. She thought of his young face, younger than she imagined they would be; his bright – yet somewhat haunted – eyes. "He's... kind of brilliant, actually." She could sense it from their brief albeit heated discussion that morning. "I'm not sure what he made of me, to be honest." His arrogant antagonism was still somewhat baffling. She wasn't sure if it was an act, another tactic meant to frighten her, or his true nature. Intuition told her, though, that the latter wasn't the case. And if that were true, one thing that could be said about her was that unfortunately for him, she wasn't easily frightened. She might be inexperienced, but she was on a mission, and she didn't intend to fail.

"I need to get this right, Missy. I need to prove Dad wrong."

"And you will, if you stop fooling yourself that you can do it overnight." Melissa smiled and reached for her hand. "I sense this fire in you, Dana. You let out this... this glow. You can't go wrong on this path. This is where you're meant to be. I know it."

"I wish I was as certain of it as you are."

"Maybe if you let yourself believe a little," her sister chided, winking.

She dismissed Melissa with a shake of her head, thinking her sister would probably get along spectacularly with her new partner. She was about to point it out as well, but was distracted by voices from the foyer.

"Where's my Starbuck?" a voice boomed, and a moment later her father's imposing figure filled the entrance. She stood up and hurried into his waiting arms.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Sorry, I couldn't abandon the steaks. How are you, sweetheart?"

Whenever he called her that, she was feeling five years old. Gone was the tough, no nonsense Agent Scully. Whenever her father held her in his arms she turned into a completely different person. She chuckled inwardly. Agent Scully could stand her own in Mulder's cramped office. Dana wouldn't have lasted five minutes with the man and his crazy theories.

"I'm fine."

"Good," he said, touching her chin. Their eyes met. He smiled his approval at whatever he'd found there. "Dinner is served, ladies."

Dinner commenced, and for a while they were on safe topics. Her mother was telling them about a gardening competition she had considered applying for, and Melissa was talking about a Reiki workshop in the Appalachia she'd returned from the week before. She eyed Ahab the entire time. He seemed chipper, as he'd always been with his children around. Surely it would be easy to tell him about her day. If he could sit through Melissa's ridiculous story of her Reiki workshop, he would have to listen to what she had to say.

As if sensing her resolve, her mother cleared her throat and smiled at her encouragingly. "Well, Dana, tell us how today went."

"Fine, I think. I got a new assignment. I'm leaving for Oregon tomorrow morning on a case." The words still sounded foreign coming from her lips. Like one of those detective shows her father had secretly watched and thought none of them knew.

"Her first field assignment, Dad, isn't it exciting?" asked Melissa, while sending a well aimed kick at her shins. She was trying to help, in her own way.

"What exactly does a new assignment entail, Starbuck?"

"Well, for one thing, it means I'm done teaching at Quantico for the time being. I'm being transferred to the headquarters downtown." Sitting across from her, Melissa subtly nodded her approval when their eyes met. Delivering a slightly more glamorous tale on a need-to-know basis would better serve her purpose. "I'm requested to put my medical expertise to use while backing up – " she paused there, thinking of the true nature of her assignment with unease – "the head investigator in the division I'm now assigned to."

"In other words, playing Watson to someone's Sherlock."

"Essentially," she smiled carefully. Her father's tone was vague, but she didn't let it deter her. She was determined to win him over and thus complete the first step in the delicate task of proving him wrong; without unnecessary heart attacks, of course. "I'm actually looking forward to it. His reputation at the bureau precedes him. He finished at the top of his class in Oxford. I expect to learn a lot."

"Were they unhappy with you at Quantico?"

"William..."

"I'm just wondering why they would transfer her out of there mid-semester for field work apparently any other agent could do."

"Well, there's my medical background," she said, somewhat uncertainly, mostly because it was a question she herself had been initially pondering. "I'd like to think of it as advancement, not punishment." For a moment she wasn't sure which of the two of them she was trying to convince.

"Give Dana some credit, Dad. I'm sure she's a brilliant teacher. The terror of the pathology department. If that's even a thing."

She returned her sister's crooked smile without correcting her. "My assessments were pretty good actually; we just got them a few weeks back." She felt her cheeks grow warm. She didn't like to brag, but Melissa's words were the perfect introduction, and she really did kick some serious ass in those assessments. And it might help support her case. Her gaze found her father's. "I came third on our firearms assessment. I think you deserve the credit for that one."

"My baby sister, the best shot in class. Serves Bill and Charlie right."

"Third best shot, Missy," she corrected. "And only because Ahab taught me so well," she said, smiling sheepishly at him.

"You mean to say I dug my own grave on that one," he told her. Her mother laid a restraining hand on his arm. He shook his head, dismissing her wordless reproach. "My only concern, Starbuck… So long as you were teaching in Quantico, I knew you were safe. If they're sending you out in the field now... Lord knows what might happen to you out there. I'm just not sure you are fully aware of the consequences of your reassignment."

"Dana is perfectly capable, Dad," Melissa snapped. It was her turn to kick her sister's shins. They were having such a lovely evening; she was actually beginning to feel good about herself again. She didn't want to start an argument. She didn't want to add a family dispute to her list of concerns, let alone tonight. "And she's scared enough as it is," her sister continued, her tone softening considerably. Their eyes met. It was as if Melissa could read every trace of doubt in her. Knowing her, she probably could. She would call it energies, or something.

"I do trust you, sweetheart," he told her while throwing a look at Melissa, wishing to assure her, as well. "It's everyone else out there I don't trust. This new partner of yours, for instance."

Once more, Agent Mulder's image materialized. She remembered the stories she'd heard at the Academy over the passed two years, by her peers and her cadets. He couldn't be as crazy as they all claimed he was, could he? Melissa was probably right. But then again, their earlier conversation over the phone came to mind; she assumed that he might be, but from there to actually harming her in any way? If anything, she was the bad guy here; her superiors had expected her to inflict much more damage on his career, to terminate it altogether if possible. Once again she was filled with searing shame for what she was about to do. There was her father, genuinely fearing for her safety, as she was about to go against everything he had taught her.

"I can protect myself just fine, Ahab. From whoever it is we come across in our investigations, or from this new partner of mine. Believe me," she added, staring at him pleadingly.

"I want to believe." She let out a sharp gasp as the familiar words echoed back at her. But before she had a chance to ponder over their significance, he reached for her hand. It looked tiny inside his own; she laced their fingers together and met his eyes. "You're one stubborn, strongheaded girl. I wonder who you got that from," his lips curled in half a smile. "I hope it comes in handy in your investigations as well. Your partner won't know what hit him," he laughed, pleased with his joke.

If only he knew how painfully accurate his prediction was.

"Good luck, honey," her mother smiled. She was visibly calmer now that her father seemed to accept her new reality.

"To Dana's first case," announced Melissa, elevating her glass. Despite her protest, both her parents echoed her sister's toast. Her father was smiling more broadly now, that rare smile that lit up his eyes. Her heart swelled with love for him, even though she was still feeling like a traitor. Because more than she wanted to prove him wrong, she wanted to make him proud. However, so long as she was not complete with her assignment, she could not do so. She had no choice. She had to obey her superiors. She was hardly in a position to defy them, not if she wanted to stay with the bureau for long. But she could at least try and maintain her integrity through all of this. She could be true to herself and hope it would all work out for the best. She wanted to believe that it would.

Perhaps Melissa was right, and that really was where she was meant to be. Whatever was revealed to her the following day, she hoped with all her heart that it would allow her to make her parents proud. It didn't matter what Agent Mulder had made of her or what his plans were. She wasn't a quitter. She wouldn't give up. Whatever tricks he had up his sleeve, he'd better be ready for her. Because just as her father said, she was stubborn and strongheaded. No matter where this new venture would take her and whatever its consequences, she was there to stay.


End file.
